


All through the night

by Aurora_Schrodinger



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_Schrodinger/pseuds/Aurora_Schrodinger
Summary: Shea Ryder has a child, responsibilities and a lot of baggage from previous relationships. She definitely cannot afford to have a fling with an attractive smuggler.





	1. White Russian

“…

    Star of faith the dark adorning

    all through the night.

    Leads us fearless t'wards the morning

    all through the night.

    Though our hearts be wrapt in sorrow,

    from the hope of dawn we borrow

    promise of a glad tomorrow

    all through the night.”

 

Shea finishes singing her lullaby as she watches little Emma’s eyes flutter to oblivion in the comfortable numbness of her cryo pod. She stares at her sleeping face for one last time and strokes the surface of the pod with her fingers before leaving her. Knowing that she would see her again only six hundred years later tears her heart apart, but it is the right choice.

She slowly leaves cryo bay and the Hyperion. She wants to reach a corridor in the construction base, where she can see Earth for the last time. When she reaches a suitable spot, dawn is breaking on the Americas. She crosses her arms around her chest in a lonely hug, thinking about the enormity of the trip that awaits her, and the piece of heart that she is leaving there. Her decision was abrupt, and nobody probably understood why a young woman with a child would risk her and her daughter’s life for such a dangerous mission. Her parents in law probably judged her when she told them, although they kept to themselves as they often did, never making a fuss or intervening in their life decisions. The Alenkos are discreet people, after all.

«You must go with them, I mean, you and Emma». Kaidan’s words resonate in her memory of the living room in the Alenkos’ Vancouver home. It had been a long time since she last came to visit them with Emma and it was always painful and awkward for all parties involved but they were decent people and she felt she owed them that, at least they tried to be there for her. The same couldn’t be said for her father. «You must join this _Initiative_ , if there is a chance that it succeeds…».

«Did your implant get rattled on Horizon? » she said and tossed the datapad still playing the Andromeda Initiative briefing on the coffee table. She showed it to him as a joke, thinking to reconcile and have a good laugh at the declining fortune of her family, but she never expected for him to support this. After Shepard supposedly died they started talking again, be civil with each other, but she still came out overly aggressive, even to her surprise. She was trying so hard to be more patient, but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. She turned around to face the French door, ashamed, on the other side, Emma was playing with her grandparents on the beach.

«Look, if your father is backing this, it must be safe enough…» he started saying, while she shook her head in disbelief, she started pacing around the room as if she wanted to escape «… it could solve everything, actually».

«Is this about the rumours of Shepard coming back from the dead? » she snarled «Do you want to get rid of us? I cannot believe we’re having this discussion again. I don’t care who you fuck, I just want to be left in peace» he looked insulted.

«It’s not about that at all! » he answered, unusually agitated. She could tell that it certainly had to do at least a little bit with Shepard based on his expression. «Look» he sighed «I know lately things have been messy between us…»

«For the last three years at least» she added, rolling her eyes.

«… but you always trusted me, right? » he stood up, getting closer, she instinctively pulled back «I need you to trust me now, Shea».

She looked away, indecisively «Not without an explanation of sorts» she answered, lowering her voice «You cannot ask me to trust you blindly anymore after all that happened». He sighed again, exasperated as if he was trying to explain things to a child. It annoyed her greatly, but she didn’t want to make a scene.

«I met her on Horizon» Kaidan admitted, and her heart sunk into her chest, heavy «you remember when we talked about the Reapers? You were one of the few who believed her, after what happened at the Citadel». She nodded, he was right. Shea resented her “rival”, but she was a journalist first and based on her investigation Shepard’s story was believable, although she had received orders not to give it too much importance during the news. «The reports I read, what I saw on Horizon… The Reapers are coming, Shea, and I don’t know if we can stop them». He stared right into her eyes, grabbing her arms to make her look back at him. He was deadly serious. Worse, he was scared. Kaidan hurt her, deeply, but he wouldn’t joke about this, not with Emma involved. She asked all the question that she needed to be sure that he wasn’t crazy or lying and made up her mind. His story made sense, and the details were terrifying, to say the least.

That evening she video-called her brother Ryan and sent the confirmation letter to her father. If there was only a small chance of sparing her daughter from a horrible death, she would take it. Maybe they would have died anyway while in cryo, but dying painlessly while asleep was certainly better than any hypothesis she could conjure about the Reapers.

She gazes at Earth for the last time, saying goodbye. Thinking about Kaidan is still as painful as ever. Soon, she will go to sleep and when she wakes up he will be long dead, regardless of the fate of the Milky Way, of the brewing war, of Shepard. Soon, nothing of this will even matter anymore. It is somehow liberating, but also a bit scary and sad. As part of the Pathfinder team, she is assigned to the preparation for the trip to the Terminus System, where they will be put in stasis as the Arks and the Nexus leave for dark space and then she will finally reunite with Emma. A tedious task, but necessary nevertheless. Once in Andromeda, they will assist with the settlement and exploration of the Heleus cluster. Maybe with the settlements in place, she will be able to build a house, settle down and give Emma a proper childhood without having to move her around when the circumstances require it. Just the two of them, without men complicating their lives. Maybe this time, for once, everything will go according to plan and she can have the new start she so badly needs.

The omnitool on her left arm buzzes, and she is shaken from her thoughts by a message from Ryan: “Meet me at the bar in ten”. Her irresponsible brother needs her for some sort of mischief, perfect. She starts walking towards the bar, or at least that was what she thinks, but after fifteen minutes of walking she realises she is lost for the umpteenth time today. When she finally gets there, her brother is chatting with a beautiful asari at a booth and barely acknowledges her. Shea sits at the bar and starts browsing through the drinks.

«You look like you are waiting for someone» says a voice with a distinct Chilean accent behind her. She turns around, startled. Oh, right, it is just the pilot who accompanied her and her daughter to the base. He is dark haired, tan and still wearing his Initiative pilot suit. He probably just finished his shift. He gestures at the bartender, asking for drinks. Two glasses of whiskey come so soon that she’s sure this isn’t the first time the man picks up a girl at the base’s bar.

«Not interested» she answers and moves away the glass with her hand. He ignores her and drinks both the glasses before sitting next to her in such an effortless way that she realises it isn’t the first time he is turned down either.

«Oh, you are missing out on some good whiskey, here. You’re not going to be able to treat yourself like this in Andromeda» he says smiling and not backing up. «Where did you leave your daughter? » he asks.  She is frustrated by his insistence, but at the same time she doesn’t want to be rude, after all he was kind to Emma, so she can at least try to be polite instead of treating him with a biotic kick.

«She’s been put in cryo» she sighs and lowers her gaze to look at the empty glasses on the bar and then she finally remembers «Oh! Sorry about the model ship she stole from your shuttle, she took it with her to sleep and I couldn’t manage to convince her to give it back». He smiles and she feels the blood rush to her cheeks.

«It was just an old souvenir, nothing to worry about» he glances briefly at the rest of the bar, seizing the Initiative personnel enjoying their time off and then stares again at her, straight into her eyes «Are you sure you don’t want a drink? I won’t ask again».

«I’m pretty sure you can find better company around here» she says nodding at the people around them, who are having fun on their last night off for, well, six centuries. The atmosphere is quite festive nevertheless. He tilts his head, smiling again. She must admit he is quite charming.

«But none of them is you» he says, and something inside her clicks. Maybe a hint of nostalgia or desperation, she can’t tell and it doesn’t matter. She orders a White Russian.

It’s hard for Shea to recollect how they got to her room (she got lost twice, anyway). But when they finally get there, she doesn’t care anymore about the things they talked about drink after drink. Some of it was deep and interesting and the guy has a crush on her since when she was working for ANN, apparently. But still, she doesn’t care. She just wants to get into his pants and this becomes obvious to him too, when she abruptly kisses him while opening the door to her room. She’s shorter than him, so she must stand on tiptoe to reach him and grab the collar of his suit. She then pulls him inside the room, her kiss deepening in anticipation, almost frantic. He groans in pleasure, returning the kiss at first, but then suddenly pulls away to stare at her.

She stares back into his hazel eyes, confused, and shakes her head as if asking him what’s wrong. After a few seconds of staring, he raises his hands to caress her cheeks and starts kissing her again, slowly but passionately. He doesn’t need any words to explain that he wants to be the one who decides the pace.

She lets him, bringing her hands to caress his abdomen over the suit while his hands slowly move to her neck, to her shoulders, down on her back and her hips, giving her the chills. His movements are careful, somehow, the way he moves is telling of someone who doesn’t just want to relieve a primal instinct. He wants to enjoy this, to savour it. She unzips his suit from the collar, taking her time, and he starts to lift her shirt from beneath, gently caressing her back while pulling it up. She moans and he pulls away briefly to lift the shirt over her head, leaving her in her bra and trousers. She starts making his suit slide down from his shoulders until it falls on the floor, until he’s only wearing his briefs. He gets rid of his boots clumsily, while gently kissing her neck. His hands fumble with her trousers to open them and finally letting them fall on the floor as well, while she kicks them and her shoes away. His lips trail down to her chest while he undoes his bra, pulling her towards him. She sighs, ah his tongue starts tasting her nipples and his hands proceed slowly but surely to freeing her from her underwear. He then grabs her hips and lifts her while walking towards the bed, where he falls on her, the weight of his body overwhelming her.  The friction of his body on her bare skin is enough to make her moan again. She kisses him and then wraps her legs around his lips, pushing him closer. She manages somehow to get rid of his briefs sliding them down with her feet and leaving him bare. He pulls away for an instant, basking in the sight of her sweaty, unravelled expression. She reciprocates the stare, he looks weirdly vulnerable. She lifts a hand in an instinctive tender caress before he finally dives into her with a kiss.

She wakes up without being able to tell if it’s morning or not. He’s still sleeping at her side, an arm over her waist in a protective fashion that doesn’t belong to that context.

«Fuck, fuck, fuck» she whispers, while she tries to comically juggle away from him without waking him up. He moans, sounding slightly annoyed, she freezes. Still sleeping. He turns around in his sleep, freeing her from his hold and she literally runs away from the bed, grabbing her clothes in the dark. She’s astonished, not sure how this happened or why. She’s a mum and a sentimental disaster, shit. She should have never accepted that drink. She escapes the room, adjusting her clothes and collecting her tousled brown hair in a loose bun as best as she can. Is she presentable? Maybe not. She checks her omnitool, fuck, she will barely make it in time, how is she going to get to he Hyperion in time? She runs confused through the corridor until her head bumps into something and she’s suddenly on the floor, definitely queasy. She lifts her throbbing head to see her brother Ryan, his arms crossed and a disrespectful smirk on his face.

«I imagined you would be late and I came to check if you got lost… again» he says, helping her stand up «So, that pilot from the bar…? » she reciprocates the smirk.

«So, that asari from the bar…? » she asks back, patting his shoulder.

«I see that you are invoking the Ryder Twins Code. I get it, no questions asked, big sister».

«You’re a good little brother, after all… » to be fair, even if she wanted to answer, she couldn’t say more. She doesn’t even know the name of the pilot, and the conversation they had is blurry at best.

They reach the bridge of the Hyperion where their father is waiting with a stern look. Captain Dunn is at his side focused on getting the crew ready for departure. Duty calls. The trip to the Terminus Systems is relatively uneventful and they manage to avoid being noticed by pirates, geth and smugglers. Eventually, the time for cryo sleep comes for them as well. She is accompanied by an asari doctor to a pod close to his father and brother. His father takes his place in silence and he goes to sleep without even saying goodbye. Shae and Ryan share a look and a shrug. They always took care of each other without his help anyway.

«Goodnight little brother».

«Goodnight big sister».

As the cold starts to make her feel drowsy and darkness takes over her, Shea recalls the lullaby she was singing to her daughter the other day, before putting her to sleep.

“Deep the silence 'round us spreading

    all through the night.

    Dark the path that we are treading

    all through the night.

    Still the coming day discerning

    by the hope within us burning.

    To the dawn our footsteps turning

    all through the night.

..."


	2. The skies of Torfan

The pods on the walls are full of future colonists in stasis. They are like breathing corpses, floating in slumber silently through the longest night. Thanks to the dim lights that illuminate them, she can discern the features of some of their faces. If only she could ask their stories. Why are you here? Why is this important to you? Why should I fight for you? But they cannot answer, they can only stare through eternity, at the mercy of events, just as she is now. Her brother’s pod looks badly damaged. Doctor T’Perro checks the pod and then begins administrating drugs and giving orders to the nurses. His connection to SAM has been interrupted while he was in stasis, and they are checking for permanent damage. She can barely see Ryan’s face through the small window of the pod. She reaches to touch it, as if to caress him, to let him know that she’s there, although maybe he cannot even feel it.

“There appears to be no permanent damage, Shea” SAM intervenes, interrupting her thoughts. Its artificial and emotionless voice irritates her, but she begins to breathe again.

“To be on the safe side, we’ll have to keep him at a low-level coma for a while, then let him regain consciousness naturally” Lexi’s prognosis doesn’t seem so bad, but it will take time before they can reunite. It saddens her to know that he cannot be there with them “He’ll be fine”.

Lexi’s comment implies that there’s nothing she can do for now, so it’s time to reluctantly walk to the bridge, where her father requested their presence before. Cora makes sure that she follows her, despite not wanting to leave Ryan alone. The walk serves as a chance to have a quick briefing on the status of the ship and the mission. They are close to Habitat 7; they don’t know what’s going on and they are still deciding how to proceed. Perfect. As soon as they arrive at the bridge deck, Shea is tackled by a small force of nature: Emma.

“Mommy, I thought you’d never wake up” she moans, bouncing around with joy. She is holding a ship model in her left hand, she was probably flying it around the deck. Shea caresses her front, gently moving away a rebel strand of dark hair.

“Are you okay, baby?” She asks in concern, but Emma doesn’t seem to give much weight to what just happened with the artificial gravity, in fact, she shrugs.

“Her vitals and response to stimuli seem to be well within the range of normality” is SAM contribution to the conversation, from her omni-tool. How does he know?

“I just flew my new ship through the all the deck” confirms Emma, with a big smile on her small heart-shaped face, waving around the ship model “Granda also smiled” which Shea couldn’t believe even if she saw it. The great Alec Ryder smiling, what a sight would that have been. To be fair, he was different once, before her mother got sick. It was a long time ago. Her brother didn’t agree, but she could remember him as affectionate when they were younger. He drastically changed when they enlisted in the Alliance, though, but she couldn’t tell why. She thought he would have been proud.

“Emma, are you lying to me?” Shea takes her by the hand and starts walking again to reach the command centre.

“I’m sure she is” Cora has known her father for years and she is the epitome of professionality. Still, she must conceal a smirk while she follows them through the corridor.

“No, mom, promise. It was a tiny little smile, but I saw it!” since when they started seeing ‘granda Alec’ again, Emma has been set on humanising him. It almost worked sometimes.

“The Pathfinder has been taking good care of Emma during the awakening procedures and the subsequent accident”.

“I’m sure of it, SAM, thanks for the confirmation” Shea’s discomfort is growing at the AI’s remarks. It is a bit obnoxious and intrusive already, and they barely spoke. Ryan would have loved this, he’s the nerd.

They enter the deck to find his father and Captain Dunn discussing the next steps. Apparently, a huge amount of dark energy is interfering with sensors and with the ship systems. It surrounds the planet. Landing or not landing? That is the question. She agrees with her father, landing and exploring the planet could provide some invaluable data, but Captain Dunn would prefer to look for the Nexus, ask for reinforcements, maybe?

In the end, they decide to send a small recon team to the surface. It’s hard to leave Emma on the ship but Shea’s more useful on the ground. In the locker room, she gears up, meets the new crew, exchanges a few words and names. SAM points her at the weapon locker, where her brother’s sniper rifle is resting, lonely. She will miss knowing he’s there, watching her back, she sighs and picks up her sword, no firearm. Cora looks at her puzzled and she feels the need to explain.

“In a battlefield full of guns and rifles they never see a swordsman coming” Shea says with a peaceful smile. Cora doesn’t look reassured, in fact, she stares at her a bit concerned, but Shea shrugs her off. She touches her father’s good luck rock and moves on.

 

* * *

 

 

The words of her father’s speech echo in her mind: “I chose each of you for the Pathfinder team not just because you’re passionate and talented, but because you’re dreamers, like me”. Shea wonders if that is still true for her if maybe her father understands her even more than she understands herself; because those words resonate within her, but it’s been a long time she’s thought of her as a dreamer. And it takes all her dreaming capacity to believe his theory that retaking this tower and activating it, can help them escape the bloody planet. Floating mountains peeks out of the clouds. It’s raining and the weird bone aliens that decimated their crew, injuring some and killing Kirkland, are surrounding them. Thunders are filling the sky and the sound of them makes her shiver because of an unconscious connection: they look like the skies of Torfan. Shea doesn’t have the time to properly process this because she needs to charge from one side of the field to the other, where Liam needs her help. But she can almost hear the screams of the dying around her. Batarians, humans, they were undistinguishable at the end, drowned in their own blood, losing inches of life as the grenades kept falling and the soldiers kept fighting even after losing limbs. She remembers her hands, soaked in blood, trembling. Her companions from the academy falling around her, helpless, some with their bowels on the ground. Major Kyle, ordering them to push on. When one of them disobeyed to go back and medicate the injured, he had shot him in the face. Nobody else tried. And while they cried for help or death, whatever would bring them relief, the rain washed the tears off the faces of those who marched and not even the thunders could cover their screams.

The assault on the alien base on Habitat 7 had been quick and painful, for both parties. She never fought at her father’s side and she had to admit it was both an uncomfortable and amazing. He was always one step ahead of the rest of the team, and not because of the ‘combat profiles’ he mentioned a few times during combat. It’s his experience and field awareness that left her continuously in awe, while she was struggling to keep up. Not even Cora, his second in command, is even close to his skills. That’s what Kaidan must have felt while fighting along Shepard.

When the enemies finally start to retreat, just as she extracts her sword from the chest of one of their heavies, her father calls her to help him open the jammed door that leads inside the vault. Meanwhile, Cora and Liam fend off the remaining aliens.

“You really think you can shut this thing down?” she asks, as they lift part of the door.

“I don’t know yet. SAM’s decoded part of the language” while he says this, the rest of the door opens, giving them access to an atrium “Now we’ll see if we can have a conversation”.

“Nothing on this planet has listened so far. Just… be careful” she doesn’t know what else to say. It’s her father after all and seeing him during his job, as she never did before, has given her some insight on the pride he had about being an N7 and why he even cared so much.

“Worried about your old man, huh? I won’t tell anyone” he smirks, patting her on her arm, affectionate, almost “Come on. These are the moments that make it all worthwhile”. They enter the vault and meet a huge holographic construct filled with symbols she will never be able to understand.

“SAM, begin translating”.

“A moment” answers the synthetic voice “Translation complete”.

“Let’s see what we have” her father moves towards the holographic interface and starts fiddling with it, carefully. She follows him, observant and a bit curious. Something happens and the tower seems to shut down. Shea looks outside, where the clouds seem to part and the storm quickly fades away, as if by magic.

“I’ll be damned. It’s working. You did it!” she cries with enthusiasm, unable to contain her emotions.

“There’s hope at least” her father smiles, putting an arm around her shoulder in a rare affectionate moment.

“This is more than hope – it’s proof we weren’t crazy. We can fly to a whole new galaxy and still make sense of things”.

“SAM had a little something to do with it” he adds as if he knows her distrust of the AI, whose voice interrupts them to point out that it was a simple matter of linguistics. They both smile as SAM talk and then, from their back, a sudden, undiscernible cloud, pushes them with the force of a typhoon, making them grasp at the border of the platform they were standing on. Shea has a second to think that maybe they’re safe when a second wave pushes a crate against her, and she falls into the crevice.

It takes a few second to stand to her knees, confused. It’s enough to start suffocating: her helmet is shattered beyond repair. She gasps, scared, and she barely sees the orange light of her father’s omni-tool approaching. She’s already fainting because of oxygen deprivation.

“Repeat, we need an emergency extraction now!” Cora’s voice responds from the other side of his omni-tool, it will take at least three minutes to get there, maybe four. It’s not enough, she’s going to die. It’s weird that with that sort of awareness, the stupidest thoughts come to mind. Like, she spent literally the last important night of her life with someone and she’ll die not even knowing his name. Weird as it is, a part of her knows that her mind is wandering because the lack of oxygen and her last thoughts would be her stupidest ever. “We don’t have that long” Her father’s voice brings her back to reality. He looks concerned, she notices. It’s not exactly surprising, but she thought that he wouldn’t care much. In an instant, he takes off her helmet, then takes off his and puts it on her. “Deep breaths” are the last words she hears from him. She starts to feel her conscience failing her.

“What are you…?” she tries to question him, her voice is broken, she even tries to lift her hands to take off the helmet, to save him, but her body is heavy and she cannot even move properly.

“Initiating transfer” SAM’s voice is the last sound that ferries her into darkness while she loses herself into unconsciousness. She sees her father speak, before fainting, but she doesn’t hear. She is dying, she thinks. She will die and never know what he wanted to say to her.

 

* * *

 

 

She was standing in a room, coldly illuminated by neon lights. Her hands were still stained with dried blood. She could still hear the echo of the cries for help, the shots, the brains splattering on the ground as they died. Kaidan entered the room in a hurry, pushing away one of the nurses. She was alone, her brother was probably in another room. He hugged her, but she didn’t feel anything except for the warmth of his body. She could still feel outside, but her inside was completely shut down.

“Everything’s going to be alright” he said, staring right into her eyes “we’ll fix this, ok?”.

He probably meant well, but she didn’t like what his words implied, that she was broken. Of course, she was broken, how could she not? She just didn’t want to hear it, to accept it. She could still feel the thunders of war and death inside her, that night. The survivors were in a transport ship that would have taken them back to Arcturus where they would receive proper treatment. They told her Kaidan run there as soon as he knew what happened, to accompany her, to be with her. She should have felt something about that, but she didn’t. As he implied, she was broken. She didn’t want to be broken, she wanted to feel something.

After everyone went to sleep, she climbed onto Kaidan’s bunk bed and kissed him softly on the lips. She knew it was enough to wake him up when he was suffering from headaches from his old-fashioned implant. He did wake up and stared right into her eyes, as before, in the med bay. He was inquisitive, with his gaze, trying to understand how she was, afraid of asking.

“We’ll fix this” she murmured, and then kissed him again. She couldn’t know back then, but that was the night Emma was conceived.

 

* * *

 

 

Shae wakes up in a dark space. She can’t identify the room, but she is certain that the blue sparkling holographic bubble on the top of her head is the ship’s AI. She still has flashes of moments of consciousness while they revived her, but she isn’t sure they are real.

“Welcome back Shea” it’s SAM, of course. Now she recognises the room. It’s SAM node, on the Hyperion.

“What happened?” she asks, perplexed. Her head is throbbing, she feels heavy.

“You were clinically dead for 22 seconds” great. What an adventure. Where was everybody? Where was her dad?

“Did the rest of the team make it?”

“Hey, you’re still with us” only now she sees Liam, who was sitting in a dark corner of the room. He calls others through his omni-tool warning that she’s awake. He looks at her in a weird way: “Who are you talking to?”

“SAM” the answer is quite obvious.

“I didn’t hear him” he says, right before Doctor T’Perro and Cora storm inside the room. The doctor checks up on her, probing her with the omni-tool. As she turns her head to prove that she is alive and kicking, she sees her father’s helmet laying at her side.

“My father… where?” Cora and T’Perro lower their eyes, embarrassed, hurt, something. Her heart sinks in her chest.

“It was your life or his… and he chose you” tells Cora. She doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t believe he’s gone. One minute everything was fine and then… he…” Shea is confused, but now everything that happened on Habitat 7 comes back. How could he do this? How could he abandon her again?

“I know he could be distant, but once he said that when his time came, he wanted to go out among stars no one had seen before”. Cora is kind, Shea knows that this is probably her best attempt at comforting her, but her heart feels empty anyway.

“What are we doing in SAM node?”

“SAM is now part of you in a way we don’t entirely understand. It played havoc with your brain” Doctor T’Perro seems to be holding on other information about her status as if she’s trying to prepare her for a revelation.

“SAM?”

“Your father authorised the transfer of Pathfinder authority to you” this is blunt. What is she supposed to do? Be her father? Replace him? They must be joking.

“Shouldn’t that be Cora?” There. Cora is probably a better choice than her. She is second in command anyway.

“In theory. In reality…” She seems to collect her thoughts for a few seconds. Is that resentment? Pain? “You’re the new Pathfinder, Shea”.

“You can’t be serious.”

“What’s the matter? I think you’re up for it” oh, Liam, always the optimist. Everybody stares at her expectantly. They are fucking serious. It’s like nobody even considered that she might be refusing.

“It still goes against protocol” This is her last hope. Protocol. They all signed a contract after all. “Cora, are you really okay with this?”

“I won’t stand in the way of your dad’s decision”.

“It’s all academic anyway, SAM’s linked to your mind on a deeper level now. Trying to untangle it could kill you”. She must face it, running from this is not an option.

“I know this is tough but… we need to start thinking about the next step. A lot of people are counting on us” Cora goes straight to business talk.

“Is the Ark still drifting?” Twenty thousand souls started to feel like a terrible weight on her shoulders.

“That’s the thing, whatever you and your dad did with that tower, it saved the day. Some sort of atmosphere scrubber” the ‘accurate’ analysis by Liam at least leaves hope for a settlement in the future.

“The energy cloud thinned out. We’re on our way with the rally point now. Should be at the Nexus soon”.

“She needs to rest first” says doctor T’Perro, concerned. Well, she did just die.

“She has two hours. We’ll need our Pathfinder for this”. They all leave, Cora stares at her worried for a few seconds before following the others and she’s now alone. Except for SAM, of course.

“Your father will be missed” says the AI, inexpressive as usual. She tries to breathe, slowly, rhythmically. She grabs the helmet and puts it on, as she did when she was a child. When he was away on missions, she would steal his spare helmet and smell his cologne inside it, to feel him close to her. Like then, she can still smell a faint trace of her father, probably for the last time. She fills her lungs and then takes off the helmet, holding it to her chest in a foetal position. She doesn’t want to talk to SAM or leave the room or do anything, not even go see her brother. Then she notices a small shadow on the door frame, leaning.

“Emma?” she runs towards her and hugs her tightly, stamping small kisses on her front. She must have been worried sick. She still has the bloody ship model she stole from the pilot, centuries ago. Shea collects it gently from her hands. It’s a model of the Normandy SR-1. Kaidan, her brother, her dad. All the important men in her life left her alone. She cannot contain her sadness anymore and she starts sobbing at first, then tears begin to cloud her vision.

“Mommy” says Emma, tearing up herself “don’t cry. We’ll fix this”. And then Shea starts sobbing again and then wailing, unable to stop. She feels still broken after all, after all these years.

After an hour or so, when she finally calms down and Emma has fallen asleep on her lap, she recalls the last words of her father’s speech, before leaving. “We dream of exploring the unknown, of finding the edge of the map and then discover what lies beyond. When people look back on this, and they will, they’ll remember we never gave up, that we kept dreaming”. Her father is finally exploring beyond the edge of the map. She needs to be the one who keeps dreaming, for all of them.


	3. Bridges

Reyes slides the blade carefully on the margins of his face, annihilating the small hair which grew since yesterday morning. Shaving is a sort of ritual for him, it is the last moment he keeps just for himself before starting the day. He tries to reiterate it even in hectic days like these, even if it’s almost the end of the day and he couldn’t stop to properly groom before. A snort breaks the silence, startling him and making him cut himself. He swears, as he picks the towel from the edge of the sink to stop the bleeding.

“Are you done, pretty princess?” asks Zia, laying on the sofa. He’s not used to her invading his personal space like that but she looks like she’s enjoying it greatly. He tosses the towel and grabs a vest to put on.

“Go without me, if you’re in a rush” he glares at her coldly, while she stands up from the Tartarus couch that serves as his office and occasionally as a very uncomfortable bed and wears a red satin dress that she keeps for certain occasions. He preferred her naked and silent, her being pretty and annoying at the same time.

“And not have you watch? Never” he often wondered if her French accent was fake or not, but after years of being acquainted, he still couldn’t tell . Zia chuckles: “I’m sure I can teach you something about seducing young pilots”.

“Only the strictly heterosexual ones” he jokes, wearing his light armour suit. He wished he didn’t have to make her part of this job, but he didn’t have any choice. He needed the help of somebody who wasn’t affiliated to any faction, especially to Sloane. She was generally reliable anyway.

When they get to Kralla’s Song, their target is already there, boasting who knows what with his friends. They are noisy and quite young. Keema is sitting at a table in the corner, facing the beautiful view that can be seen from some of the most external tables, he can see the sun setting on the mountains of Kadara. While Zia approaches the partying crew, he sits on the table next to Keema’s, his shoulder facing hers. They are close enough to talk but nobody would tell that they are meeting. Zia has already joined the group of cheerful pilots and is excelling at getting their attention.

“So, how is the family?” he asks, leaning on his back to get closer.

“Oh, where can I start?” she looks amused by the scene at the bar “I have news from Aya that might be of great interest for you, but I don’t know if I should tell you”.

“Don’t be such a tease” he says checking up on Zia, at the bar, clearly flirting with the young cargo pilot. He seems to have fallen for it. Good.

“I don’t know, they are really valuable” says Keema, taking time to break the news. He tilts his head, annoyed.

“Keema, come on…” he moans. She waits several seconds, just to bring the suspense to the edge and then she starts whispering.

“I heard the human Pathfinder met with our leaders” as she says it, he turns around shocked, not caring about appearances anymore. He even drags the chair on which he’s sitting on, to move to the other table.

“Alec Ryder is alive?” he almost shouts it in surprise and then lowers his voice, some of the guests of the bar turn their heads towards them, then go on with their own businesses “He reached Aya? They let him?”.

“I don’t know who this Alec Ryder is, but I’m pretty sure he’s not the Pathfinder. Evfra said he met a woman” she frowns “and she wasn’t invited, she literally almost caused a war, but I don’t know the details”.

“A woman?” he remembers that the Pathfinder’s second in command was a woman, he doesn’t remember much about her, but it could be useful info after all. A second in command freshly promoted is certainly more malleable than a former N7 who doesn’t give a shit and can easily kick your ass. Does that mean that his daughter is alive as well? He starts feeling butterflies in his stomach at the thought of the night he spent with Shea and proceeds to killing them with a shot of whiskey. He doesn’t need to be slowed down by weird romantic entanglements right now. The show must go on and he’s deep into the middle of act 2. Keema intercepts his expression and laughs.

“You’re not planning on bedding her too I hope?” she asks. He looks almost offended.

“Only if necessary” well, it usually ends up being necessary nevertheless.

“Oh, Reyes” Keema chuckles, amused “Just focus on this mission, you really need the resistance support for your crazy plans”.

“I am focused!” he says, turning around to check on Zia and she disappeared. Well, maybe he’s not so focused after all.

“Look, Reyes,” Keema grabs him by the arm to catch his attention “I’m sending you the meeting point coordinates and the contact of the resistance representative on Voeld. Don’t screw this up, it wasn’t easy to convince Evfra to accept to work with you and he won’t give you another chance if you fail him”. He nods. She sends him a quick message from her omni-tool and leaves Kralla’s Song, after paying the bill for both.

Reyes stays there, staring at the vista with his whiskey in his hand, thinking. Shea is probably alive and he has a chance in bringing the Pathfinder to his side. It’s the best news he heard in months. Shea is alive. He must plan this carefully, there is no room for error. And Shea is alive. He gulps down the last of his butterfly-in-the-stomach-killing whiskey and walks away from the pub. Zia’s apartment is on the fancy side of Kadara port, it will take some ten minutes to get there. He uses the time to reminisce about his life in the Milky Way and regrets that he doesn’t have more whiskey in him. Alliance News Network was always on in the dirty tavern of smugglers and dreamers he basically lived in, Veraponia’s Corner. Shea Ryder, daughter of the legend, Alec Ryder, was the anchor-woman of the evening news bulletin and all the lost souls who gravitated around the Turian mistress’ tavern were basically in love with her sad smile, himself included. They all loved her personal way of telling stories from around the galaxy and there was something about her eyes that caught them, although nobody could explain what it was. Reyes knew it though, he thought he understood her. She had the eyes of a dreamer, like all of them. Somebody who believed in a greater something but got caught in the crushing grasps of reality. Then she resigned. He could remember the outrage it caused among the drunkards and the addicts of Veraponia’s, when they heard her last speech. Everybody thought it was because of the gossip about her private life being a wreck, so he never expected to be her shuttle pilot at the Andromeda Initiative shipyard. As soon as he saw her, in a white sheath dress and her sad smile, he knew he would never forget her.

Zia walks out of her apartment after half an hour, and smirks at him licking her lips. He sighs rubbing his hand on his forehead.

“Have you got the info?” he asks, before she can say anything.

“Of course, he said he loved my accent” she answers, leaning close to him with her whole body “Dock number 9. I also have his pass card”.

“He sure did, it took you just half an hour” he says, commenting on her new lover’s prowess and putting his arm around her waist.

“You know I have my ways” she answered while they moved on towards the docks.

“He was too drunk and passed out, didn’t he?” he chuckles, she winks.

The docks are almost desert, except for the obligatory turian guard from the Outcasts, but Reyes has already paid for his silence. They walk, silent and quick, Zia has taken off her shoes to be more comfortable. When they get to the ship, he moves to the side of the hold door. There should be just one of the pilots guarding it, the rest of the crew is on shore leave. He planned it carefully. Zia knocks. She lowers one of the straps of her dress and flirts at the camera of the intercom, whose light goes off after a few seconds. They wait for two excruciating minutes, before the hold door opens and an angaran man comes out.

“Human, you shouldn’t be–“ he can’t finish the sentence, because Reyes knocks him out from behind. He starts rummaging through his clothes.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, tilting her head confused, and pushing away the face of the angara with her bare foot to examine him “I thought we were stealing from humans”.

“His card, we need two to fly this ship” after a long paused he lifts the card he just found with a smirk “Does it matter who we are stealing from?”.

She pushes the knocked-out pilot with her foot to turn it around and notices the ceremonial dagger he’s wearing at his side “Is this a Roekaar, Reyes? Are you crazy?” he already moved towards the entrance of the ship and turns around to answer her.

“Look, are you coming or not?” he waves the card towards the angara “do you want to wait for him to wake up to ask him personally?”.

Zia reluctantly follows him inside the ship and takes out the pass-card she got from the drunk pilot. The ship is not huge, but he knows that the cargo it contains is huge in both significance and quantity.  It’s easy enough to find the main deck, they both insert their pass-card and starts the take-off.

“Have they sanctioned this? Are they even aware of this?” Zia’s voice is more high-pitched than usual. She never mentions them, only talks about them as ‘they’, but he knows exactly who she is talking about. They both know. The pronoun lingers in the silence of the piloting deck.

“They won’t mind the results” is Reyes’ answer. He stops to look at her, she looks worried “This mission is not dangerous, everything will be fine”.

“It’s easy for you to talk” she says, in a conceited tone “It’s my face they saw before they passed out, it’s me they will remember! Are we stealing from the Roekaar, Reyes? What the fuck is going on? Have you finally lost your mind?”

He grabs her, to stop her from panicking “Zia” he says staring right at her “If this delivery goes well, you won’t have to worry about fucking anything. Everything will be taken care of. Trust me”. She sighs and stop asking questions, but still doesn’t sound convinced. He will manage to calm her down during the trip to Voeld.

After a few hours of flight, they decide to take turns in piloting the cargo. The trip is going to last almost an entire day, after all. Reyes offers to stay awake for the first turn but Zia insists in piloting first, she hates landing and Voeld is not going to be a piece of cake. He manages to find the crew quarters, where there are several bunk beds.  He crashes into the one that seems the cleanest to try to sleep, but he keeps on tossing and turning around on the bed. It’s been an eventful day, after all, and he needs to ease the tension, somehow. He’s still shaken by the news that the Nexus reunited with the Pathfinder team and this chain of thought brings him inevitably to Shea and, in the dark and without inhibitions. She was so stuck up at first, when he met her at the base’s bar but then after a couple of drinks and jokes, she became extremely genuine and funny, her freckles crunching on her nose every time she smiled, and how he loved to see her smile. On screen and with makeup on, it was impossible to notice all the details of her skin. She had a beauty mark just under her lips and one on her collarbone, almost an invitation for kisses. It’s been months but he can still remember the taste of cream, vodka and coffee on her lips, the sound of her excited breath on his ear, on his neck. He lowers his left hand under his pants, to meet his aroused member and stroke it, gently at first. Being inside her had been like the coronation of a thousand wet fantasies, but at the same time, there was a sense of intimacy that he never felt before. He felt like for the first time, he could finally give a different spin to his life. It was almost cathartic and unexpected. He starts rubbing his cock more intensely now, and a moan escapes his lips. He glances towards the door, almost instinctively and he sees a silhouette out of the corner of his eye. She’s standing in the doorway. He stops.

“It looks like you need a hand” she says, coming closer before he can even reply.

“I won’t say no to that” he answers, his voice low, broken by his arousal. She lifts the hem of her dress and sits on him, kissing him passionately. It’s the wrong taste, but the light is off, so he can still pretend, for a while, to be in Shea’s room, orbiting around Earth.

When he wakes up it’s late, very late. But the ship hasn’t been attacked by pirates or Kett, and in fact, they are approaching Voeld. He wears his light armour, a pistol and a few extras to be sure, leaving his casual clothes on the floor, and then goes to the bridge. There’s no time to waste, so he starts the landing with the coordinates he programmed before leaving the helm yesterday. Zia joins him, she’s wearing armour and arms as well.

“Reyes, I must tell you something” she says, while they are almost touching ground. He hates being distracted while landing, but he notices something is off: they are landing in front of a cavern. He thought they would be meeting at a resistance base.

“What have you done Zia?” he asks, when he checks the coordinates. They are different, she must have changed them while he was in the crew quarters, alone.

“I’m doing you a favour” she answers back “I don’t know who you were planning on selling this stuff, but you know ‘they’ want us to collaborate with the Outcasts, we must gain Sloane’s favour to get access to the port, so…”

“You sold me to the Outcasts!” he screams, while they finally touch ground. His heartbeat is growing faster. This is exactly the worst shit that could happen “What the hell, Zia?”

“I haven’t sold you, I made an agreement!” she says, confused “The Outcasts will pay us and protect us from the Roekaar”. He starts pacing around the bridge to clear his mind. He needs to get out of this shit.

“As you wish” he says after a few seconds, calming down. He presses a button to lower the boarding ladder. They cross the ship to reach the hold on the other side, in eerie silence. Anyone could sense the tension between them, Reyes is visibly fuming but resigned nevertheless. He fiddles with a pad to open the door and when it does open, she moves up to greet one of the Outcast pilots that came to meet them all the way here. The cold is stinging him so deeply that he feels it in his bones. He stays behind and when Zia turns around to urge him to join them, he raises his gun to her head.

“Nothing personal Zia, but I’m late for an appointment with someone else” he says, and before she can do anything, he kicks her down the boarding stairs. She stumbles on the Outcast and they both fall to the ground. As Reyes closes the hold door, she manages to take out her gun and shoot, missing him. He blocks the door and runs to the bridge. When he manages to take off, Zia and her associate are still shooting  at the ship.

The meeting point is at Hjara, one of the resistance’s bases. His contact is a colourful angara who wears a weird cape and a visor. His face is scarred and he seems battle savvy. They exchange a few words, shake hands and part. The angara provides him a lighter ship in exchange for the cargo of supplies. This shipment of drugs, food and medical equipment maybe will help them to kick some Kett asses.

Back on the new ship, he receives a video message from Keema.

“Evfra was impressed” the hologram shaped as Keema said, staring at nothing “he said that he will keep watching you closely and that the Collective will have discreet support. He thinks you are one of the Charlatan’s lieutenant” she chuckled “now maybe you can actually make it and take over Kadara. What do you think?”

He activated the communication device to record an answer: “I think it’s time for Sloane to die”.


	4. The Desert

Shea caresses a blond strand of hair away from his sleeping face. He looks peaceful, but still, she wishes Ryan was here. The med bay is busy with people going on with their lives, some being awakened for duty in one of the colonies, some others coming back from either Voeld or Eos for medical treatment that cannot be performed on the surface. It gives her a sense of purpose, knowing that what she’s doing has an impact on their lives, that she can make them better. When she leans in to kiss his forehead, her braid falls on her right shoulder. She strokes his arm once more, then moves away. How many souls does she need to wake up before she gets her brother back?

“Vrooom!” it’s Emma, ecstatic to have her back on the Nexus, even if only for a while “Mommy, mommy, how is Uncle Ryan?” she waves her arm with the model ship of the Normandy, flying it around as always. She cannot convince her to get rid of it.

“He’s fine, I guess” she answers, but she wants to change subject, badly “Do you want to do something in particular while I’m here, baby?”

Emma tilts her head, she looks undecided. “There’s lots I want to do” she starts, with a whiny voice “I don’t know where to start”.

“If I may give a suggestion,” says SAM from her omni-tool, startling her “you mentioned wanting to give back to its owner the ship model your daughter illegally apprehended”. Well, shit.

“WHAT?” screams Emma, yanking the hand she was holding “Mom, but it’s a present!”

Shea rolls her eyes, trapped in the worst situation that could ever occur to a Pathfinder: a pouting daughter. “Thank you, SAM” she comments, annoyed “Look, Emma, you never actually got permission to get it… Do you want your mum to be exiled in your stead?” it’s a white lie. The pilot said she could keep it, but it’s the only lead she has that could help find him and besides, she needs some sort of excuse to turn up to him. Oh, hello, I’ve got your model ship here, sorry for disappearing for six hundred years. Ok, that’s even worse than her previous ideas. She sighs and stares down at her daughter that looks at her, betrayed.

“Mom, I checked,” Emma says “they cannot exile you for something I did, and they cannot exile me because I’m too young”.

“You… checked?” Shea asks, confused.

“Of course” she answers back, determined “The Nexus database is full of interesting predece- preduce- precedents. I would never put you in danger in my place”. And now her daughter is starting to show the signs of abandonment issues and will probably become a criminal. Great.

“Did Kesh teach you how to access the database?” Shea asks, and Emma nods, cheerfully. They finally got to her father’s apartment, next to SAM node. She will need to have a word with Drack’s granddaughter, before leaving. Emma runs inside and starts jumping on the bed. “SAM?” Shea calls it, but it’s always there, in her mind, probing, learning. It’s unsettling.

“Yes, Shea, how can I help you?” its voice, as usual, is artificial.

“Can you play something for Emma?” as soon as she says it, the huge screen on the back of the apartment starts screening With Soft Shoe Number, a weird volus and elcor comedy that Emma seems to enjoy far too much.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Shea?” asks SAM.

“Yes, please, I need you to look for someone” she leaves the apartment and heads to SAM node for a bit of privacy “He’s a pilot, dark hair, tan skin, hazel eyes…” Is there any other detail that she can remember about him? She doubts that the Initiative’s database has info on the taste of someone’s lips or his scent, or…

“Do you intend to give back the ship model despite Emma disagreeing, Pathfinder?” asks SAM, prying. She can tell when it tries to probe her mind to understand her. She can also tell when the AI disagrees with her since it stops calling her by her name.

“No” she answers, truthfully this time “I just want to find him”.

“I have sent you a list of all the pilots employed by the Initiative who are currently alive and correspond to the parameters you listed, Shea” explains SAM. A chill runs through her spine, she didn’t consider it; what if he’s dead? “but it won’t be easy without a name. Data has been corrupted during the uprising and several profiles are incomplete” after a few seconds of silence, SAM continues “Can I ask you something, Shea?”

“Go ahead,” she says while going back to the apartment. She wants to enjoy her last few hours with Emma and maybe browse through the files SAM sent her.

“Are you looking for this man because of what happened with Liam?” as he asks it in their private channel, she stops, her hand sticks to the door panel but doesn’t move to open it. Her heart feels suddenly heavier.

“I don’t want to talk about it” she whispers, trying to conceal her voice breaking, and enters the room.

 

* * *

 

The screen of the terminal at Tartarus reflects different faces every few seconds, none of them seems to match the female voice coming from the speaker. Reyes tries his best to look chill, but sometimes, while speaking, his voice betrays a hint of tension, insecurity.

“I thought you’d have gained Sloane’s trust by now, Anubis” the feminine voice beneath the thousands of faces sounds annoyed.

“I’m working on it” he replies, dry “you won’t be disappointed”.

“What about the tiff with Persephone?” They ask again, impatient “I thought you two were working together towards our common goal”. Shit, Zia must have reported him, in the end.

“We don’t see eye to eye anymore” Reyes answers with a sigh “I don’t need her to get control of Kadara Port, you can reassign her to some other task”. Three or four of the thousand faces smirks at him, impishly, from the screen.

“I hope you don’t regret this, Anubis,” They say “I just want results, and my patience is almost over”.

Reyes starts to relax as soon as the screen shuts down. He sits on the sofa and rests his head in his hands, almost abandoning himself to release all the tension. He barely managed to fix things with Sloane’s men after Zia’s intervention and now this. He isn’t prepared to face the Benefactor, yet. He needs more time and a plan. He pours himself a glass of whisky and starts sipping it, closing his eyes. But he will face Them, only not yet. The whisky starts burning through his throat. He needs more men and contacts, but first, he needs Kadara. His omni-tool beeps insistently for a couple of minutes before he bothers answering, lost in thoughts. It’s Keema.

“I thought you passed out drunk,” she says, amused, from the speaker.

“You know me” he comments, rolling his eyes “it’s too early for that. What can I do for you Keema?”

“The Pathfinder team is on Kadara” Keema declares, letting the sentence rest for a few seconds in his mind. A silly smile appears on his face and his heart begins to dance in his chest “Evfra wants you to help the Pathfinder get to Vehn Terev, you know him?”

“Sure, the guy Sloane wants to publicly roast for the joy of the masses,” he says, tilting his head “Can do, send her to me”.

“I knew you’d be thrilled” she replies, chuckling.

“Keema?” he asks, frowning, he’s almost hesitant “Do you know if a certain Shea Ryder is with them?” she laughs at his enquiry, wildly amused.

“I’ll let you guess this one” she answers, trying to stay serious “Kralla’s song in fifteen. The Pathfinder will wait for you at the bar. Have fun, Reyes”.

“As always,” he says, annoyed by his friend’s teasing. She cuts the call but he can hear her laugh again before the communication is interrupted. She didn’t want to give details so Shea must be here. He stands up sharply and goes to the small basin with the mirror that sits at the corner of his Tartarus room. He nervously smooths his hair, sprays a bit of cologne. He touches his own cheeks: nope, doesn’t need to shave yet. He breathes slowly, deeply and stares at himself in the mirror to focus. He nods and leaves the room.

His legs cover almost automatically the distance between Tartarus and the elevator to the docks. The actual elevator ride is infinite. He takes it as an opportunity to glance at lower Kadara. The clinic seems busy as always, Oblivion addicts are already patrolling the streets to find easy credits for their dose. In the background, the desert. It reminds him of a quote from a book he read a long time ago, in another life, when he had time for such sentimentalities. The desert, masterpiece of the civilised man. When they got to Kadara the desert was already there, but it’s true that they thrived in the hoarseness and the void that the desert provided. They thrived in the ever-changing, sandy, chaos, destroying any law or bond for profit, for power, without respect. This, he could not forgive. They built another kind of desert on the already existing one.

As soon as he arrives in upper Kadara, he can feel that the air is different. Some people in the Initiative white and blues are discussing with the port personnel. One of his men is already eavesdropping, he can see him hiding in plain sight, a Turian dock worker that is not happy with how Sloane sent his lover to die in the desert because he couldn’t afford to pay for both. He will get his report this evening with more info on the crew, possibly about Shea. She doesn’t appear to be with them. The Tempest is peeking out from behind a wall. He recognises the ship immediately, in awe. It must be cool to pilot such a beauty. If he stayed on the Nexus, maybe… but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on impossible what ifs. It takes an insane amount of time to open the door that finally leads him to the commercial district, where Kralla’s Song is. He’s starting to grow impatient. He passes a colourful Asari who’s leaning on the railings, admiring the Port. He rushes to the pub, and again, the door opens slowly enough for him to wonder if time has dilated just to piss him off. Then, suddenly, he’s in. When he sees her, leaning at the bar absorbed in her thoughts and biting her lips, his heart skips a beat or two.

 

* * *

 

Shea is staring at the Asari owner of the pub, lost in her thoughts. Jaal seems to hate the place viscerally and it’s been a challenge just to get him off the ship. Liam insisted on leaving the ship overly protective and passive aggressive at the same time, but it was the first time he spoke to her in weeks, so she let him. Drack and Vetra are probably dealing with things that she doesn’t want to know about. Peebee is probably putting herself in danger and Cora is being mature and responsible as usual, not causing new trouble, bless her. Managing a team is much harder than she expected and this is one of the first times she’s able to be on the field alone, finally. Evfra mentioned a Shena and she’s been eyeing every Angaran woman since they landed, wondering if it was the contact she’s waiting for. Their eyes are mesmerising; they look like they could contain all the universe inside them. She’s fascinated and worried about them at the same time. There have been communication issues with them and Jaal started to help her understand them a bit better only recently after she proved herself by saving the Moshae Sjefa. Before he was cryptic at best, sometimes even distrustful, but what happened on Voeld changed them both. She finally realised how big her responsibilities were, how much was at stake. She felt so heavy.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” says a familiar voice. She manages to turn around fast enough to see him gesture towards Umi for two drinks, then she remembers to breathe again when he turns towards her with a drink in each hand. If she had some doubts that this was happening somewhere other than in her mind, his smile confirms it unequivocally. For a moment, she thinks of rejecting him, because she must wait for the Angaran contact, but then she gives in. There is no notable Angara around, anyway. At least he’s alive.

“I have time for a drink,” she says, grabbing one of the glasses. They cheer and drink. Whisky of course. Too strong for her. He nods, smiling, and drinks.

“Shena, but you can call me Reyes,” he says with a smirk “I hate codenames”. Oh, so that was his name. Shea is grateful for not needing to ask it herself. It would have been awkward, to say the least.

“I was expecting someone more…” the right word doesn’t come to mind “Angaran,” she says finally, looking a bit confused. Yes, confused is the right word to describe how she feels.

Reyes chuckles, amused. “The Resistance pays me to supply information,” he says, looking at his side like he’s thinking about how to explain his line of work “Among… other things”.

“So, you’re a smuggler?” Shea asks, not bothering to hide a touch of irony in her tone.

He makes a gesture, inviting her to move towards the overlook “Your man - Vehn Tarev - was arrested by Sloane Kelly, leader of the Outcasts. Word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa”. He shakes his head, seriously. “The people are calling for his execution. And Sloane… she’s a woman of the people”. His last sentence is accompanied by a theatrical gesture; he spreads his arms to highlight the concept. Shea is now close enough to him to smell the strong scent of cologne, dust and synthetic leather on him. He smells different and at the same time the same, compared to the last time they met.

“I like her already” she comments, dry. She was briefed by the leaders of the Nexus on Sloane Kelly, but everyone seemed to become vague about her involvement in the events of the uprising and how she came to become the leader of the Exiles. SAM could provide more insight, but not much. Apparently, she was a hot-head, but her Alliance record was good enough, aside from some altercations with officers. Heck, her records were arguably better than Shea’s. So, what made an outlaw out of her?

“Well…” he seems sceptical, disappointed even “She doesn’t like you”.

“She’s never met me” she adds, tilting her head in a determined nod.

 “You work for the initiative, Sloane was part of the uprising on the Nexus” he explains, trying to be as diplomatic as he can. “I doubt she’ll give Vehn up easily”.

 “I’m taking him- with or without her permission” she answers.

“We’re going to be friends, you and I,” he says, flamboyantly. Just friends? He seems to be thinking about it for a second, then adds “There might be another way to get to Vehn. You work Sloane, I’ll work the Resistance”. He starts to walk away quickly, but she stops him.

“How do I contact you if things go south?” Shea asks, maybe to steal more time with him, although she cannot admit it even to herself. It is still good to have a plan B. He turns around and winks at her, then leave. Something inside her bursts into flames. Still, she’s left with the bill to pay and without a proper answer.

Sloane Kelly’s throne room is nothing short of impressive. The warm Kadaran light bleeds through the window blinds enough to slightly annoy anyone who comes to visit the self-proclaimed Queen of Kadara. It takes some time for Shea’s eyes to adjust to the lighting in the room and focus on Sloane, sat inelegantly on her own sleek, no-nonsense, metal throne, and her thugs around her. A Turian, a couple of Krogans. Nothing that Shea can’t handle, if she plays it sensibly. _I am strong, nobody messes with me_ , she repeats, as a mantra, as her alliance trainer taught her. Shoulders square, chin up. Look confident and half the job is done. She wasn’t allowed to take any weapon in the commercial district, but she was trained as a weapon herself, so that doesn’t matter, even here. Years of martial arts training with her father first, and then with the Alliance, gave her a sort of battle awareness. She begins seizing the field as soon as she entered the room, expecting trouble. Nothing up until now, no info she gathered gave her the impression that the leader of the Outcasts will be willing to cooperate. From what she can see when she enters the room, her intel was accurate. Everyone except for her had a weapon, some more than one. The whole room was set up to be menacing and she knows that if she shows any sign of weakness, nobody will respect her here. _I am strong, nobody messes with me_. A Krogan pushes her further into the room from behind.

Sloane is giving orders, with a very uncompromising, stern attitude. She knows that attitude is the Alliance stance. The one officers are taught to keep from the start of their training, to invoke a sense of authority. It doesn’t work on her anymore. _I am strong, nobody messes with me_. She finally looks at her, as if she means nothing as if the human Pathfinder is just a small underling under her command. “What?” Sloane asks, brisk. She’s beautiful and fierce. Her mismatched eyes surrounded by a field of old scars and burns. This conversation will be a battle. _I am strong, nobody messes with me_.

 “That’s quite the throne” comments Shea, trying to look unimpressed. If she gives in now, she will lose control of the conversation. “Should I bow? Kiss your ring?” she asks, ironic. Irony is usually the best way to deflate attitude.

Sloane leans forward, not smiling “Very funny,” she says with a frown. “So, what brings a Pathfinder to our humble port?” she asks, leaning back again on her throne.

“Vehn Tarev” answers Shea, crossing her arms over her chest, defensive. A mistake. “Name ring any bells?” she says, trying to convey nonchalance instead of anxiety.

“What’s he to you? And don’t lie to me” she demands. Her tone says she didn’t buy it. She noticed her uneasiness, she expected it. She puts a foot on the seat of the throne, to show that she isn’t impressed by her.

“Just point me to where you’re holding him and there won’t be any trouble” Shea answers. This Sloane Kelly is clearly a dangerous opponent, but she’s representing the Nexus, and obeying her would send the message that the exiles can make demands and they will obey.

“No. There won’t be” she gestures at the Turian standing next to her, and he moves forward, pointing a gun at her. Two Krogans are behind her, she’s surrounded. She won’t be kicked out of this room without sending a message to this arrogant brute who calls herself a leader. As soon as the Turian gets close enough, she strikes his collar, where he has no carapace to protect him, with the back of her palm tense as a knife, on the thinnest side, putting a lot of pressure in one spot. As soon as he inevitably bows down, coughing because of her strike, she disarms him and points the gun at Sloane. She cannot win this, of course, she’s still surrounded by armed Krogans, pointing their guns at her, but she might be able to shoot her before they attack her, and Sloane knows. This was all the advantage she needed.

“Drop it, now!” she screams, angered, losing her cool. Shea can see her glancing for a moment towards the Turian, worried. Useful. She then stands up, leaving her throne, finally acknowledging her, and takes out her own gun.

“You first!” she says, keeping her shoulders square, chin up.

“Get out! Or I’ll put you down” hisses Sloane, menacing.

“Thanks for the hospitality” is Shea’s ironic answer. She leaves the room, keeping her gun pointed at Kelly.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell, Keema? Why didn’t you tell me _she_ was the Pathfinder?” Reyes said, conceitedly, while the blue, starry eyes of the Angara conveys her amusement.

“I take it you already met her” she answers, chuckling, they are standing in an alley, behind Kralla’s song “she must be impressive, judging by your reaction. I never thought you humans capable of such intensiveness of emotions”.

He’s annoyed at her teasing, but she has a point. His plan on Kadara comes first and he should know better than to mix up feelings with business. Still, he can use this to his advantage. Maybe he can use this connection with Shea to further his plan and after, he will need allies on the Nexus.

“What do you want, Reyes?” she asks, “you said it was urgent and I have to go back to the Outcast base before Sloane notices”.

“Oh” he comments with a smirk “Sloane will be too busy to notice you are missing, I think” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his hands over his chest “I need that interesting software that one of your friends developed to get into the Outcast base undetected and that was confiscated. Can you get it?”.

She seems concerned and curious at the same time “I can, but it will be risky” she says “are you sure you need this?”.

He nods mischievously. Keema sighs.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Shea gets out of the Outcast building, she starts breathing normally again. She secures the gun to her belt, unapologetically. She spots Reyes not far, with a confident, almost bragging, smile on his face.

“Have a nice chat?” he says, leaning close to her. She can smell the mix of cologne, dust and fake leather from before. It’s becoming a familiar scent.

“I think she likes me” she jokes, to exorcise the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I found a workaround” he says to comfort her. They start to walk away from the building together.

“Let me guess - it comes with strings attached?” she asks, anticipating some favour he might ask in return, as they all do, always.

“Not any new ones” he explains “Remember - Evfra wants Vehn alive, so when you get inside, give him this”. He steps forward and hands a small device to her. “This will eat through whatever Sloane’s holding him in, and it can’t be traced back to us. A resistance agent will be waiting to pick Vehn up”.

 “What if he makes a run for it?” she asks, concerned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s covered. You just focus on… whatever you need from Vehn”. He says, making it evident that he doesn’t care about what she’s doing with it “There’s a maintenance shaft around the corner. Sending the access code” he says, fiddling with his omni-tool “That’ll get you inside. You should be able to handle the rest”.

 “There’s still the matter of the bill you left me with,” she says, lowering her voice.

“I’m… usually the model gentleman” he answers, smiling. Damn, he’s sexy. And he knows it, which makes it worse.

“I don’t believe you,” she says answering with another smile, teasing.

“Because I’m lying” he comments, chuckling. “When you’re done, come to the food stall in the plaza. I’ll buy you lunch. I promise”. He leaves, leaving her shaking her head.

“I triangulated the information on Reyes as you asked and cross checked them with the Nexus database,” says SAM, startling her, from their private channel who nobody else can access “his name is Reyes Vidal, confirmed. A full report of all the data I could recover is waiting at your terminal on the Tempest”.

“Thanks, SAM,” she says, moving towards the maintenance shaft Reyes mentioned. Shea and the AI are slowly becoming a team. She’s starting to almost like him. Almost. It helps that she knows that she has at least someone, something with which she can share secrets, now that she cannot rely on her brother.

“He seems helpful” adds SAM, when did he start to be so assertive?

“He sure does” she answers, entering the maintenance tunnel to rescue Vehn Terev.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere in the Plaza is tense and she is no better. Vehn Terev left her with more questions than answers and the quest to find a Kett transponder somewhere in the desert around the Port. There is only one food stall there, managed by a Salarian and Reyes is already there, sitting, waiting. He sees her from a distance and nods. Shea feels her stomach tightening involuntarily. She sits next to him on one of the stools.

“I cannot believe that you are actually here,” she says turning towards the bar.

“What” he answers in fake disbelief, subtly stroking her back while he turns towards the bar as well “did you think that I would run away leaving debts behind me?”. She nods, he chuckles.

“What are we eating?” she asks, to change the subject.

“Angaran noodles,” he says, pointing at the colourful pictures above the bar.

“I thought they only ate paste-like stuff” she comments, browsing the pictures with her eyes wide open. They are as colourful as the Angara, none of them looks actually edible though.

“Oh, they do” he explains “but some exile cook experimented a bit with their cuisine and managed to invent something that appeals to both cultures”.

“You’re joking,” she says, still staring at the pictures. He shakes his head, pointing at one dish as if to give a suggestion. Amazing. Nothing like Aya or the Nexus, where every attempt at intercultural activities resulted in struggles and diplomatic incidents, and progress was slow. They order what he suggests, Shea wouldn’t know what to choose anyway.

“Sloane doesn’t like it much, but she needs the people’s approval, so she has to suck it up,” he says, shrugging. After a few minutes, a bowl of bright pink alien looking noodles with slices of vegetables on top comes in. “Watch it, it’s very spicy,” he says.

The noodles are spicy and their taste is weird at first but after a few bites it becomes more familiar and she must admit that it’s quite good. For Kadara, at least. “Thanks, Reyes,” she says, while eating “for helping with Vehn Terev – and for lunch”.

“I owed you, didn’t I?” he says with a bright, innocent smile. Too innocent for him to be believable.

“So, Shena, uh?” she asks, rolling another bite of noodles around the chopsticks they gave her.

“It’s the Angaran word for… mouth”. He clears his throat “Heh. I’m good with… words”.

“Among other things?” she teases. Her bowl is almost over. She starts to feel warm and happy because of the meal. It was definitely worth it.

“Never had a complaint. Not even from you” he says, lowering his voice and leaning closer. She blushes and she’s too self-conscious for her own good. “Shea” he adds, with a hint of concern in his tone.

“Yeah?” she gives him an expectant look.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but... You’re not really liked here. In Kadara port” he says, retreating.

“Ouch,” she says back. She cannot hide her disappointment and not because of the opinion of the good people of Kadara.

“What I’m saying is - you need a friend,” he says. Again, with the word ‘friend’. “Someone on the inside to help you out. I can be that guy. You need intel on exiles, Sloane, whatever - come to me. You can find me in Tartarus”. He looks genuine, although it wasn’t what she expected, or wanted. Silence falls between them, and soon after he leaves, with the promise of meeting again soon.

She stays there for a while, contemplating the weird feeling that his growing in her gut and deciding that it is a heartburn, but from the noodles, nothing more. She takes advantage of the situation to observe the market. The people around her, by the stalls, look like they are constantly guarding themselves, unsure, waiting for a fatal mistake to happen. Sloane is a woman of the people, Reyes said, but her people look scared.

When she finally goes back to the main street, close to the Outcast headquarters, there is a commotion among the local militia and the passers-by. Shea tries to make space between them to see what’s going on, before being bounced by Sloane’s men, but she manages to catch a glimpse of the scene. There is an Angara, dead, butchered, on the pavement. Some are shocked, others are indifferent, Shea is among the former.

As if reading her mind, SAM intervenes on their private channel: “Perhaps Mr Vidal will have more information about this, Pathfinder”.


End file.
